


To Bear Witness to Your Heart

by weonvu (genisaurion)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Archived from: LiveJournal, M/M, Nondescript handjob (underaged), Orphanage AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6825574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genisaurion/pseuds/weonvu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which an innocent Kyungsoo grows up alongside his brothers and discovers the truths of the world around him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Bear Witness to Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Initially written for [aideshou challenge #5](http://aideshou.livejournal.com/18169.html).
> 
> This work has been imported from its original LiveJournal posting, which you can find [here](http://reveries-unsung.livejournal.com/736.html).

 

Kyungsoo is seven years old when eight-year-old Chanyeol moves into his room.  
  
“You’re Kyungsoo,” says Chanyeol, jabbing Kyungsoo in the forehead with one slender finger. He recites from memory, as if he’d been told something by one of the adults beforehand. Of course, Kyungsoo registers none of this, because he’s too focused on the fact that the new kid has poked him for seemingly no reason.  
  
“Oww, wha—?”  
  
“You have huge eyes,” continues Chanyeol, without missing a beat. “I bet you see _everything_.”  
  
But Kyungsoo doesn’t see everything, because he’s too young to see what the world is hiding from him, because his curiosity extends only to that which is visibly in front of him. He doesn’t really understand why Chanyeol moves in with him, nor does he understand why he’s no longer sharing a room with Baekhyun, and it isn’t just because Chanyeol doesn’t spare Kyungsoo the opportunity to think. Kyungsoo barely even understands why he is there—what more for anyone else around him?  
  
“Who are—?” begins Kyungsoo, but Chanyeol quickly finishes the inquiry for him.  
  
“My name is Chanyeol! From now on, I’m sleeping here. So, which bed is mine?”  
  
Kyungsoo only has to lift a finger and Chanyeol dives headfirst into the unmade bed.  
  
“Are… are you my brother, too?” Kyungsoo asks quietly. Perhaps it’s because Chanyeol’s trying his hardest to recall the answer he’d been told to say, or perhaps it’s because Chanyeol’s too busy rolling on his mattress, but Chanyeol doesn’t respond immediately and Kyungsoo completely misses the delay.  
  
“Yeah,” is what Chanyeol finally tells him. “I’m your brother, too. So please treat me kindly, okay?”  
  
“I will!”  
  
Kyungsoo’s enthusiasm is solely a consequence of his innocence. So Kyungsoo treats Chanyeol kindly, though naively and for all the wrong reasons.  
  
  
  
  
  
Kyungsoo comes to understand that Chanyeol does a lot of things for seemingly no reason. The problem with Chanyeol is that he gets bored easily, so when class isn’t in session he either finds things to occupy himself with or forces the responsibility of entertaining him onto someone else.  
  
Being Chanyeol’s roommate, Kyungsoo finds himself entertaining Chanyeol rather often. “Let’s go pick at some grass and sprinkle them in Joonmyun hyung’s hair,” Chanyeol would say, for instance, and regardless of what Kyungsoo was currently doing or of his personal feelings for the suggestion, Kyungsoo would drop everything just to humor Chanyeol.  
  
Their relationship develops in this fashion, and even though Kyungsoo was meant to be the one to show Chanyeol around the school, ultimately it is Chanyeol who, on a whim, drags Kyungsoo everywhere.  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t think much of it, though. He sees Chanyeol as the new kid who needs friends, and despite Chanyeol’s mischievous streak Kyungsoo continues to stay by Chanyeol’s side, even though Chanyeol is a little more demanding than his other brothers.  
  
  
  
  
  
Christmas comes around much sooner than Kyungsoo expects, because time flies quickly when he’s busy laughing alongside Chanyeol. (Kyungsoo remembers a time when he used to withhold his laughter whenever Chanyeol was around in an attempt to discourage Chanyeol’s mischief, but nowadays he doesn’t bother.)  
  
Kyungsoo is used to getting gifts from the other boys, so he’s not particularly surprised when Chanyeol also gives him something, too. What catches Kyungsoo off guard, however, is the gift Chanyeol presents to him.  
  
“Socks,” Chanyeol says nonchalantly, and he points to the holey ones on Kyungsoo’s feet. “You wear the same two pairs, and both have holes in them.”  
  
Kyungsoo somehow doesn’t expect Chanyeol to notice small details like these, so instead of giving Chanyeol his thanks Kyungsoo comes off as a flustered and stuttering mess.  
  
“It’s okay, I know. Socks, so unfathomable. I’ve left you dumbfounded.”  
  
“Stop using words from our vocabulary tests,” Kyungsoo manages, but Chanyeol pays him no heed.  
  
“Did you get me anything, then? Huh, huh, did you?” But Kyungsoo hasn’t, not yet, and this news disappoints Chanyeol. “What, no way! That’s a bummer. I was so looking forward to—”  
  
“I will, tomorrow!”  
  
“But Christmas is _today_ , Kyungsoo. You’re late, and I won’t accept it!”  
  
“I’ll give you, uh, my friendship!”  
  
“I already have that!” Chanyeol cries indignantly. Kyungsoo, unfortunately, is out of excuses. “But, since you’re offering, how about you give me a tradition?”  
  
“A… what?”  
  
“A tradition!” Chanyeol exclaims, eyes lighting up at the thought. “Something we can do every Christmas, just the two of us. That’d be an _awesome_ gift.”  
  
But despite how awesome of a gift Chanyeol claims it would make, it takes nearly half an hour for the both of them to come up with a tradition they can actually maintain. The idea is Kyungsoo’s, somewhat: Each Christmas, starting from that day, the two would measure and mark their heights against the doorpost, so that each could compare heights with each other and track his height over the years to come.  
  
“But everyone does that,” Chanyeol grumbles, dissatisfied. “We have to make it even more special.”  
  
“How?”  
  
“Hmm.” Chanyeol taps his chin in thought. “How about each year, instead of just notches or whatever, we draw different symbols to mark our height. I’ll draw yours, and you draw mine.”  
  
“How does that—?” begins Kyungsoo, but as always he is cut off.  
  
“Every year you have to come up with something that happened during that year to you, me, or both of us, something that made you happy. And then, you use the symbol I draw for you as a reminder! Doesn’t that sound fun?”  
  
“I—”  
  
“And _then_ , after we measure our heights for the new year, we have to recite the meaning of all the other symbols! And if you forget one, you lose!”  
  
“This sounds more like a New Year’s tradition,” Kyungsoo mumbles, though Chanyeol doesn’t hear him. Leave it to Chanyeol to twist his initial suggestion into something much greater. Kyungsoo does like the idea though, so it’s not long before a star and a tiny ‘친구’ are etched into the fine wood of the doorpost.  
  
“Use symbols!” Chanyeol whines, and Kyungsoo responds by arguing Chanyeol never mentioned not using Hangul characters.  
  
“Besides,” continues Kyungsoo, “I don’t know how else to describe you besides ‘Friend,’ so I didn’t know what to draw.”  
  
“How about a blade of grass, for the time I sprinkled grass in Minseok hyung’s hair?”  
  
“I thought that was Joonmyun hyung.”  
  
Chanyeol merely shrugs.  
  
“Anyway, what’s the star for?”  
  
“In Jesus class,” begins Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo does a terrible job at hiding his amusement; “hey, don’t laugh, okay?! But the star represented his birth or something, right? So this star is like the birth of our friendship… it just made sense, you know?”  
  
“Birth of our friendship,” Kyungsoo says quietly to himself. “Okay. I think I can remember that.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Kyungsoo sees a psychiatrist, though Kyungsoo doesn’t call him that, nor does Kyungsoo know why he keeps making visits. For as long as he can remember, he’s visited Mr. Cho once every month, and while his visits are still mandatory, Kyungsoo has no complaints because he likes seeing the young man smile.  
  
Their visits follow a structure, though Kyungsoo’s too young to notice. Kyungsoo does nearly all of the talking, and such is always the case, or at least after they’d overcome the initial visits. They talk about anything and everything, from all of Kyungsoo’s brothers (Minseok, Joonmyun, Jongdae, and Chanyeol) to his academic endeavors (Kyungsoo has recently picked up piano, for which he’s found a passion), and Kyungsoo barely ever notices when they run out of time.  
  
“Save it for next time!” Mr. Cho would say cheerily, and that would mark the end of the visit.  
  
But this time it’s different, and while Kyungsoo isn’t perceptive enough to notice a general backbone to their visits, he does notice when something disrupts the familiarity, namely:  
  
“You seem happier these days,” Mr. Cho remarks as Kyungsoo gets up to leave, in lieu of his usual salutation. “Is it because of your new roommate?”  
  
“N-No!” Kyungsoo stammers. But by his next visit his answer changes to an affirmative one, and somehow Chanyeol becomes the center of most of their future conversation.  
  
  
  
  
  
Kyungsoo still remembers by the time the following Christmas comes around, and Chanyeol is overjoyed.  
  
But it’s not fair, Kyungsoo thinks to himself, because Chanyeol’s grown several centimeters since last Christmas, whereas he’s only barely taller than the symbol Chanyeol had last drawn for him. It then occurs to Kyungsoo that eventually they’ll stop growing, because in science class they learned humans only grow so much before remaining at a certain height forever. What would they do, then? Would they draw on top of already existing symbols, perhaps literally replacing memories with more memories? Would they simply draw beside the other symbols? Or would the tradition stop altogether?  
  
It’s a bridge Kyungsoo doesn’t cross, not at that age, and it isn’t just because Chanyeol doesn’t spare Kyungsoo the opportunity to think. In the past year, Chanyeol has become his closest brother, and Kyungsoo is wary of entertaining the idea of stopping something so special between them. So, he doesn’t.  
  
“What’s the cross mean?” asks Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo revisits the memory of Chanyeol falling ill on Kyungsoo’s birthday. It’s a memory Kyungsoo can’t easily forget, because he did not expect to wake up on his birthday to find a feverish Chanyeol unable to leave his bed; the fever itself lasted several days, and by the time Chanyeol had recovered Kyungsoo caught the illness, so mentioning his birthday became the furthest thing from mind.  
  
Many months later though, Kyungsoo supposes it’s worth mentioning, and to say Chanyeol agrees is an understatement.  
  
“How could you not tell me something like your birthday?!” Chanyeol yells, clearly upset with this news. “Do you know how late I am? I bet by now it’s almost your next birthday!”  
  
“My birthday’s in three weeks, I think,” says Kyungsoo, though it’s not as if he’s counting down the days.  
  
“See, exactly! It’s unacceptable! And on top of the gift I got you for Christmas, I have to get you one for your last birthday _and_ your next one!”  
  
“You don’t have to,” mutters Kyungsoo in protest, several times in fact, but Chanyeol pays him no heed, nor does Kyungsoo expect him to.  
  
“Next year, I’m drawing you a crown, so that I never forget your birthday again.”  
  
“Bet you’ll forget,” Kyungsoo teases, and when Chanyeol puffs his cheeks and storms out of their room, Kyungsoo decides that he really does find Chanyeol’s annoyance rather adorable, even if Chanyeol is the older (and taller, Kyungsoo adds to himself bitterly) of the two.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chanyeol does forget to use a crown for the following Christmas’s symbol, but he still gets Kyungsoo all the gifts he’s promised, and he doesn’t forget Kyungsoo’s birthday when it comes around eighteen days later. So, in Kyungsoo’s book, Chanyeol is forgiven, and all is well.  
  
  
  
  
  
Sometimes Kyungsoo forgets that he’s younger than Chanyeol, not only because their teachers regard them as equals, but also because he’s usually the one chasing after Chanyeol. Chanyeol is playful and mischievous, though it isn’t to say Kyungsoo isn’t, and between them it is usually Chanyeol who lightens the mood; despite their height, Chanyeol’s demeanor tends to suggest that he is the younger of the two.  
  
But Chanyeol is the older one, strictly speaking, and Kyungsoo is reminded of this every so often. Usually, it’s when Kyungsoo is suffering from stress for one reason or another, like perhaps because of an upcoming test or piano recital. Kyungsoo takes comfort in Chanyeol’s embrace, even though Chanyeol’s arms are lanky and somewhat wiry, and Chanyeol always manages to find the right words to put Kyungsoo’s insecurities and worries to rest.  
  
  
  
  
  
Innocence is first compromised with the arrival of Oh Sehun.  
  
Kyungsoo is ten years old when Sehun moves into Jongin’s room. He wants to greet and welcome the new kid, because he’s certain Sehun must be another one of his brothers, and he finds it strange that it’s Chanyeol, of all people, who is discouraging him from seeing Sehun.  
  
“He’s not your brother,” Chanyeol mumbles uncharacteristically for the umpteenth time.  
  
“You don’t know—” begins Kyungsoo, but yet again Chanyeol cuts him off.  
  
“He’s not, Kyungsoo. He’s not even our age, just leave him alone.” So Kyungsoo does leave Sehun alone, though Kyungsoo doesn’t find it fair at all. After all, he humors Chanyeol’s whims—why is Chanyeol so opposed to him, the one time he wants to do something?  
  
But as if fated to meet, Kyungsoo does eventually run into Sehun, and the two of them are alone. Chanyeol’s voice is in the back of his mind, though he pays it no heed, perhaps foolishly so.  
  
“I am _not_ your brother!” Sehun cries, though Kyungsoo’s attention is on the fist that connects with his shoulder. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”  
  
Sehun doesn’t wait for an answer, nor does Kyungsoo give one in Sehun’s absence. Kyungsoo is left with the sting of being misunderstood. But Kyungsoo is still too young to see what the world is hiding him, and he doesn’t understand that he, not Sehun, is the one who is in the dark.  
  
Kyungsoo feels guilty on two fronts: Kyungsoo has given the new boy a bad first impression, and he’s also gone against Chanyeol’s advice. So, that night, he apologizes to Chanyeol, and while he doesn’t explicitly mention the exact reason for which he’s apologizing, Chanyeol already knows it’s because of Sehun.  
  
They sleep in the same bed that night, for the first but not last time, and as Chanyeol holds him tightly and urges Kyungsoo in hushed whispers to sleep and forget about what he’s done, Kyungsoo asks,  
  
“Are you really my brother?”  
  
The question is fragile, and it affirms Chanyeol’s assumptions regarding Kyungsoo’s apologies, but Chanyeol thinks Kyungsoo is still the more fragile of the two. Perhaps Chanyeol is still reciting from memory when he answers affirmatively. But truthfully, the “Yeah, I’m your brother too” is because Chanyeol already sees what Kyungsoo does not.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chanyeol is a good five centimeters taller than Kyungsoo when his mischief finally sends the both of them to detention, and it completely bewilders Kyungsoo that, after having been by his side for nearly five years, this is actually the first time he’s being punished for his pranks.  
  
They’re not supposed to talk to each other, but Chanyeol does it anyway.  
  
“This will definitely be our memory for the year, okay?”  
  
“Hey, do you think Minseok hyung ever got that mustard out of his shirt?”  
  
“Do you still remember when you got on Sehun’s bad side? I heard he tried to pick a fight with Jongin the other day, did you hear about that?”  
  
“Do you even remember when I first met you, Kyungsoo?”  
  
“I just realized, I know nothing about you. I mean, before I met you.”  
  
“I’m hungry.”  
  
Chanyeol holds a conversation with himself for an entire hour, because the problem with Chanyeol is that he gets bored easily. But Kyungsoo listens, even if he chooses not to respond, though it’s only after they’re released from detention that Kyungsoo explains to Chanyeol that he remembers very little about his life before having met him.  
  
“I don’t remember my parents’ faces anymore,” Kyungsoo says quietly, because the thought of not remembering his parents saddens him. “What were they like?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Our parents,” repeats Kyungsoo. “You were with them before you started school here, right?”  
  
“Uh… no. I wasn’t.” Technically, Chanyeol isn’t lying. But he doesn’t want to tell Kyungsoo the truth, not now, so he attempts to steer their conversation elsewhere. “Hey, so does this mean I’m your earliest memory?”  
  
“I… yeah, I guess it does.”  
  
“…sweet. Hey, let’s go find Jongin, maybe Sehun’s gotten to him already.” And before Kyungsoo can process Chanyeol’s words, Chanyeol abandons the lesson he’s learned from detention and runs off seeking more mischief. Kyungsoo gives chase, and his parents become the furthest thought from his mind.  
  
“Treasure that which makes you happy,” says Mr. Cho during one particular visit, and in that moment Kyungsoo realizes just how much he likes having Chanyeol around.  
  
What he does not realize, not in that moment, is how much he takes Chanyeol’s presence for granted.  
  
  
  
  
  
Innocence is compromised again when thirteen-year-old Kyungsoo wakes up in the middle of the night to Chanyeol’s heavy breathing. Kyungsoo instinctively assumes Chanyeol’s picked up a fever, and Chanyeol does have a history of serious illnesses (namely, just one instance), so he thinks he’s doing the right thing when he climbs out of bed and presses the back of his hand against an unsuspecting Chanyeol’s neck to check his temperature.  
  
Chanyeol is hot, but for all the wrong reasons, and the last thing Kyungsoo expects to see is Chanyeol’s hand down his pants. Kyungsoo doesn’t really understand what Chanyeol had been doing, even after Chanyeol hastily tries to explain himself the day after. It’s a point of no return, especially after Chanyeol catches Kyungsoo in the act of trying it out for himself several weeks later.  
  
(Kyungsoo doesn’t appreciate the penis Chanyeol draws for him that year, so when Chanyeol isn’t looking he changes it to a rocket ship. Chanyeol loses the following year because he simply cannot remember for the life of him what a rocket ship could possibly symbolize, and though he is the first of them to lose with respect to their ongoing tradition, Kyungsoo receives no prize.)  
  
  
  
  
  
They learn about love in Language Arts, and Kyungsoo is full of questions, because it’s supposedly not the same Love which they’d discussed in Religion (“Jesus Class,” as Kyungsoo puts it, if only to tease Chanyeol for the singular moment in which he’d used that term). Kyungsoo gets the concept of intangible nouns, which was their initial lesson for the day, but love poses a condition he can’t seem to grasp, so after class Chanyeol does his best to explain.  
  
“Love’s for a special someone whom you want to spend all your life with.”  
  
“Like you?” Kyungsoo asks, because he’s known Chanyeol for longer than he can remember now, and though he’s still young and naive Kyungsoo is sure he can’t imagine a life in which he does not see Chanyeol’s smile at least once daily.  
  
Chanyeol flushes at his response, and the concept of ‘wanting to spend your life with someone’ goes completely unnoticed by Kyungsoo. “Nah, not me. I’m not that kind of special. Besides, I’m not a girl.”  
  
“What do you consider special? And why would you have to be a girl?”  
  
Chanyeol shrugs and addresses the latter question first. “That’s what our teacher said, right? ‘Love is something a boy feels for a very special girl’ I guess boys are meant to love girls.”  
  
“But why?” asks Kyungsoo, and Chanyeol doesn’t respond immediately. It’s something Kyungsoo won’t easily understand, because he’s never known his parents, who would otherwise be his first example of love portrayed. But Kyungsoo only knows Chanyeol, his other brothers, his male classmates and his teachers, and he hasn’t been exposed to real life examples of a man in love with a woman. So Chanyeol fails to properly communicate himself to Kyungsoo, especially since he doesn’t fully understand love himself.  
  
“I don’t really know why. Isn’t everything our teachers say supposed to be right?”  
  
“Probably.” A pause. “But what if she’s wrong?”  
  
“Are you _trying_ to prove her wrong?” Chanyeol asks with a lopsided grin and a mischievous glint in his eyes, and Kyungsoo almost wonders if it’s a challenge, if it’s just another one of Chanyeol’s ploys. But Chanyeol comes off the thought sooner than Kyungsoo expects.  
  
“I don’t think I’m special enough to be loved.”  
  
“What do you consider special?” Kyungsoo asks again.  
  
“Special? Hmm… when someone is special, they’re kept in a cozy, comfortable place in the heart, so they’re never forgotten. If someone is special, that person is someone you don’t want to give up.”  
  
“You’re special to me, then,” says Kyungsoo, because Chanyeol does seem to fit that description. But Chanyeol respectfully disagrees, and Kyungsoo isn’t sure why Chanyeol’s insistence bothers him so.  
  
  
  
  
  
Kyungsoo is aware of the fact that Chanyeol relieves himself late in the night, likely when he assumes Kyungsoo has already fallen asleep. Most of the time Kyungsoo tries to ignore it, but there is one time in which he lets his fingers slip beneath his pajamas and seizes the moment for himself.  
  
It only happens once because Chanyeol catches him. But instead of asking Kyungsoo to pretend their awkward moment never happened, Chanyeol climbs into Kyungsoo’s bed, and Kyungsoo is very appreciative of the fact that Chanyeol can’t see his reddened and embarrassed face in the dark.  
  
“What’re you—?” begins Kyungsoo, and it doesn’t even surprise him anymore that Chanyeol once more cuts him off.  
  
“Let me,” Chanyeol whispers darkly into his ear. Kyungsoo is too focused on just what Chanyeol’s voice does to him to notice the fingers that replace his own, and when he turns to Chanyeol with panicked, wide eyes, Chanyeol quickly hushes him and repeats himself.  
  
“Touch mine,” says Chanyeol, so Kyungsoo does, and it’s over within minutes. Kyungsoo feels helpless when he buries his face into Chanyeol’s shoulder to bite back the lewd sounds he’s making, but helpless has never felt so good. Chanyeol comes shortly after, and for a while neither speaks of what has just happened.  
  
“Jongdae hyung says it’s better when it’s someone else’s hand,” whispers Chanyeol. “So, was it?”  
  
Kyungsoo’s too embarrassed to give a response, so he gives a slight nod, and somehow Chanyeol catches it in the dark. Satisfied, Chanyeol climbs out of Kyungsoo’s bed and quickly returns with a pair of boxers.  
  
“When you do… _that_ …” Kyungsoo muses aloud, though it comes across as a question directed at Chanyeol; “who do you think of?”  
  
It’s probably a very personal question, but Chanyeol does give him an answer.  
  
“My special person, I guess,” answers Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo assumes he’s probably referring to some girl he’s met while out on the town. The response only causes Kyungsoo to redden further, because what embarrasses him most, aside from having been jerked and cleaned off by his best friend, is that it was thoughts of Chanyeol that sent him over the edge.  
  
Perhaps it’s normal, because Chanyeol’s hand is directly responsible for the mess he’s now wiping clean. Yet something about it feels off, and even after Chanyeol returns to his own bed and falls asleep from exhaustion, Kyungsoo can’t help but to wonder if ‘my special person’ is also the appropriate answer for himself.  
  
_But Chanyeol isn’t a girl_ , Kyungsoo reminds himself. So, even though he’s still not sure why a special someone has to be female, he accepts it as enough of a reason to let it go for now and to catch some sleep.  
  
  
  
  
  
Kyungsoo is sixteen years old when a seventeen-year-old Chanyeol draws the tenth symbol on his doorpost, and the only feat that amazes him more than having carried an impulsive tradition for ten consecutive years is that Chanyeol has managed to draw ten distinct symbols in such close proximity of each other. The symbols Kyungsoo has drawn for Chanyeol, on the other hand, resemble more of a line and not the cluster that is a result of Kyungsoo’s lack of noticeable growth, and each year he tries his best to hide his resentment for the fact that he simply hasn’t grown (as much as he’d have liked).  
  
“Maybe we should think of something else,” Chanyeol suggests after he finishes squeezing in a symbol between the others he’s already drawn. “You’re not growing much, you know.”  
  
“Thanks,” Kyungsoo remarks dryly. “Whereas you’re, what, eight centimeters taller than me, now? I’ll end up being too short to draw symbols for you.”  
  
“Grab a chair,” teases Chanyeol, and he only rubs salt to the wound by ruffling Kyungsoo’s hair and patting his (shorter) head. “Hmm, but no. Let’s just ditch the height thing and draw wherever, okay? Otherwise I’ll have to start drawing on top of the other ones.”  
  
“Fine.” Kyungsoo pauses, and another thought comes to mind. “You know, we’re not going to be here for much longer…”  
  
“And?”  
  
“We won’t be able to take these with us when we graduate.”  
  
“Oh… right.” Chanyeol puffs his cheeks, and Kyungsoo can’t help but to stare. It’s a habit Kyungsoo’s noticed over the years, after having spent so much time by Chanyeol’s side, how Chanyeol pouts whenever he’s seriously thinking about something. “Then we’ll take a photo before we leave. And if we ever cross paths in the future, we can recreate it, or something.”  
  
“Right…” Kyungsoo hasn’t given the future too much thought though, or at least as far as Chanyeol is concerned. It’s strange, because the thought of attending university without Chanyeol displeases him, especially after having lived and gone to school with him for the majority of his life. It’s something he doesn’t want to think about, even though graduation is fast approaching.  
  
It goes without saying that Chanyeol’s become someone Kyungsoo can’t picture himself without. Chanyeol is a special person, but whether Chanyeol is Chanyeol’s definition of special person, Kyungsoo still doesn’t know.  
  
  
  
  
  
Innocence is compromised for a third time, and is finally lost, when Kyungsoo and Chanyeol enroll for the same Biology class. They learn about reproduction, and Kyungsoo comes to a strange realization that there are no girls at their school, even though he’s subconsciously known this all along. But more surprising than this oddity is that the development of a child in a woman’s womb spans nine months, whereas…  
  
“We’re only two months apart,” Kyungsoo mumbles to Chanyeol one evening, after the lights have been turned off and both declare themselves pooped from too much studying. “So… we’re not really brothers, are we?”  
  
Chanyeol has the option of lying, because it’s still plausible to suggest they could be half- or stepbrothers. But seventeen-year-old Chanyeol accepts that Kyungsoo’s wide eyes never really could see _everything_ , even after ten years, so at last he opts for the truth.  
  
“No, we’re not.” But anything more than this isn’t Chanyeol’s place to say, so he takes Kyungsoo to see Mr. Cho; Chanyeol doesn’t accompany Kyungsoo inside due to confidentiality issues, even though Kyungsoo makes the request twice. As for Kyungsoo…  
  
“It’s a lot to take in, I guess,” Kyungsoo mumbles to Mr. Cho. “All this time, I thought they really were my brothers.”  
  
“Labels do not define cherished memories,” Mr. Cho says carefully. He pauses for a moment, as if allowing the words to echo in Kyungsoo’s ears. “The heart measures others not by their appearance but by their significance. Having family to come home to is also important, I know. But I hope you do not regard them as less significant figures in your life simply because they’re not your blood relatives.”  
  
“I know…” Kyungsoo thinks of Chanyeol. He supposes family can sometimes be an obligation, important persons whom you cannot pick and choose from, even though he’s never really known his; that Chanyeol had befriended him without being obligated to, knowing that they weren’t actually related, makes their friendship all the more special to Kyungsoo. From this perspective, Kyungsoo thinks he can manage.  
  
“May I ask another question?” continues Kyungsoo. “Would you happen to know anything about my parents?”  
  
Somehow, Kyungsoo almost expects the answer he receives.  
  
“Hmm, If I remember correctly… ah. Since you asked… your mother passed shortly after giving birth to you, I'm afraid. Your father tried raising you alone, but eventually it got the best of him. He entrusted you to our care when you were young, I think when you were about four… I have no idea where he is now, I’m sorry.”  
  
“Oh…” Kyungsoo is torn, despite his expectation. Curiosity has gotten the better of him. Even if he has no living recollection of his parents, this news weighs down heavily upon his heart. His father doesn't want him, and he will most definitely never get the chance to meet his mother.  
  
And she died… she died because of…  
  
“If I ever see my dad again… I’ll apologize to him.”  
  
“That’s hardly something you can be sorry for, Kyungsoo.”  
  
“I know, but…” but Kyungsoo doesn’t know how to end the statement. So, he doesn’t.  
  
  
  
  
  
They talk for only a little longer, something about a boarding school for orphaned and abandoned boys and something about being excused from classes for a few days to think things over. Having been wrapped up in Mr. Cho’s words, Kyungsoo forgets that Chanyeol had accompanied him to the office, and he fails to notice Chanyeol still waiting for him. So, Chanyeol asserts his presence by slipping an arm around Kyungsoo’s waist, and after brief acknowledgment the two silently return to their room.  
  
Though neither boy is tired, they sleep together on the same bed, and Kyungsoo takes some comfort in Chanyeol’s arms. He still remembers the incident with Sehun, because that too had ended with him resting securely within Chanyeol’s embrace, and suddenly everything becomes clear: Sehun really wasn’t his brother, nor was anyone else here.  
  
Kyungsoo experiences a fleeting rage, because that time Chanyeol had assured him they really were brothers. But the moment passes, and Kyungsoo supposes Chanyeol had probably assumed it wasn’t his place to say, though Kyungsoo still kicks himself mentally for having been so naive all this time.  
  
“Brothers, huh,” Kyungsoo says quietly, and Chanyeol only holds him tighter.  
  
“I’m sorry for lying,” he mumbles into Kyungsoo’s ear, so that Kyungsoo and only Kyungsoo hears his words, even though they’re alone. “I didn’t want to have to be the one to tell you…”  
  
“It’s fine.”  
  
There’s a pause, in which Chanyeol’s breathing is the only sound Kyungsoo hears, aside from the beating of his heart. Or perhaps it’s Chanyeol’s? Kyungsoo isn’t so sure.  
  
Chanyeol then begins to tell him about how he lost his parents, and Kyungsoo isn’t sure why Chanyeol chooses to confide in him. Perhaps it’s because Chanyeol wants to console him, or perhaps it’s because Chanyeol trusts him—but Kyungsoo soon learn that while he has no memories of his parents, Chanyeol has many memories of his parents… including the memory in which he’d been told he’d never be able to see them again.  
  
“I was so mad they weren’t taking me with them on their vacation, so they told me they’d take me downtown when they returned. Those were their last words to me. One morning I woke up to a social worker talking to my nanny, and next thing I knew I was being told to start packing my things. The bus my parents took got ambushed… it still hurts to think about.”  
  
“I-I’m sor—”  
  
“Don’t be,” Chanyeol whispers. “I just… didn’t want you to go through that too, though I guess you found out anyway. I suppose it couldn't be helped. And after losing all my family so unexpectedly, when I heard you called everyone your brother… I never had a brother, y'know, and if playing along meant having some sort of family… but I’m really sorry for lying all these years, Kyungsoo.”  
  
“It’s… it’s okay. You were just watching out for me.” Kyungsoo remembers Mr. Cho’s words, _‘the heart measures others not by their appearance but by their significance,’_ and he supposes the same applies here with Chanyeol, even though for a long while the centerpiece of their friendship had been measuring each other’s heights every year.  
  
“Still am,” reminds Chanyeol, and there’s a hint of finality to his voice. “So don’t forget it.”  
  
  
  
  
  
It comes as a shock for Kyungsoo, when one day he opens his eyes to a more responsible and less mischievous Chanyeol. The change is subtle, so subtle that Kyungsoo barely notices over the years, to the point where no longer having to discourage Chanyeol and chase him around the building does feel like a sudden change. But it’s more than just maturity, and though they’re both still young, Chanyeol has grown into somewhat of a giant, and his voice has developed a deeper and huskier sound.  
  
Chanyeol is no longer a boy—nor is Kyungsoo, though the changes are less noticeable, or so Kyungsoo thinks anyway. Kyungsoo isn’t sure, but he thinks he may just have missed the moment when Chanyeol had grown up.  
  
  
  
  
  
There’s something strange about waking up to an empty room and not having to wake up Chanyeol for class, but Kyungsoo doesn’t realize this peculiarity until he overhears a rumor making rounds in hushed whisper.  
  
“…that Chanyeol’s got this really rich distant relative who’s offered to take custody of him.”  
  
“You think Chanyeol’s going to go through with it? I heard he’s been absent from class all morning because…”  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t listen to any more of it, because he can’t. He’s certain that this news will only result in Chanyeol moving away to live with some rich stranger, and Kyungsoo just can’t accept that, no matter how hard he tries to come to terms with what he’s hearing. On the one hand, Kyungsoo thinks Chanyeol is old enough and doesn’t need anyone taking care of him; on the other hand, Kyungsoo tries but can’t imagine what it’s like to be wanted by family, and he supposes being able to live with relatives must result in some form of happiness for Chanyeol.  
  
And then Kyungsoo thinks about his own father, who’s still alive somewhere and simply didn’t want him anymore, and Kyungsoo’s frustration swells. So he skips the rest of his classes for the day and locks himself up in his room, though Chanyeol’s absence is detrimental and only worsens the situation.  
  
Kyungsoo has a piano recital that evening, but Kyungsoo is too preoccupied with his thoughts to care. His fingers don’t dance along white and black keys, as they should, but rather trace symbols carved into the wood of a doorpost. Each symbol triggers a memory, because Kyungsoo hasn’t forgotten despite the years, and in the silence of the room he closes his eyes and relives time spent with Park Chanyeol.  
  
Ten distinguishable moments in time, Kyungsoo has confirmed he truly is alive.  
But with Chanyeol gone…?  
  
Kyungsoo knows such a time would have come anyway, because university is fast approaching them. But he’d had time and still has time to prepare for that moment, should he and Chanyeol be accepted into different universities, whereas now Kyungsoo no longer knows how many days he has left with Chanyeol. He knows reality; he knows life will move on in Chanyeol’s absence. He just… can’t accept it, doesn’t accept it, not yet.  
  
  
  
  
  
The recital goes poorly on Kyungsoo’s part. Somewhere between nerves, lack of practice and Chanyeol not being in attendance, Kyungsoo reaches a breaking point, and Kyungsoo storms out of the performance hall before the recital’s completion.  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t know whom to blame. He can’t blame Chanyeol, even though Kyungsoo had made his song choice for his recital with consideration to Chanyeol. He can’t blame his peers, his teachers, or even the school…  
  
His father. Who else but his father? Kyungsoo quickly latches upon this thought; after all, had his father not abandoned him, Kyungsoo would not have a reason to even consider any of his current life problems, right?  
  
So Kyungsoo impulsively wanders the city, alone, at night, in search of his missing father. In the back of his mind he knows it’s ridiculous, because he’s got absolutely no leads. The likelihood of his father living in the same city as the orphanage where he dumped him is slim, and Kyungsoo knows this, even though he still entertains the idea for several hours.  
  
Only after he’s cooled off most of his steam does Kyungsoo return to his room, and he’s met with the first and last person he expects and wants to see.  
  
“The hell, Kyungsoo.”  
  
Kyungsoo freezes at the door. Chanyeol is sitting on Kyungsoo’s bed, and his face is a mix of resent and worry. If Kyungsoo fails to pick up on Chanyeol’s facial expressions, the anger in Chanyeol’s voice certainly tips him off.  
  
Kyungsoo attempts to defend himself, but Chanyeol predictably cuts him off.  
  
“Where have you been, anyway? Do you know how worried sick everyone’s been? When I found out you walked out on your own recital—wait, hold that thought, I need to tell Joonmyun hyung you’re back.”  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t dare speak as Chanyeol rushes out the door. Kyungsoo treads lightly because Kyungsoo has seldom heard Chanyeol curse before, and it doesn’t take a genius to understand that Chanyeol is seriously frustrated with Kyungsoo’s actions of the evening.  
  
Chanyeol continues the very moment he returns and shuts the door.  
  
“Kyungsoo. What happened? Your recitals are always amazing, what—”  
  
“Where were you today?” interjects Kyungsoo, quietly, though Chanyeol hears and effectively ceases his previous questions.  
  
“I was… out,” mumbles Chanyeol. Then, in a louder voice, he asks, “Is that what upset you?”  
  
Kyungsoo shakes his head, but Chanyeol pays him no heed.  
  
“Listen, I’m really sorry I couldn’t see your recital today. But we’re growing up, Kyungsoo. There’ll come a time when I can’t be attached to your hip anymore.”  
  
“Does that time have to be now, though?” asks Kyungsoo, and he hates how pathetic his words sound. But Kyungsoo has no family left. Mr. Cho is the closest person he has to a father. And Chanyeol… Chanyeol is…  
  
_Is what?_  
  
“Even siblings move on and lead separate lives,” says Chanyeol. He sounds… sad, almost. But Kyungsoo doesn’t pick up on it.  
  
“We’re not brothers anymore, remember?”  
  
“We might as well be.”  
  
“No. You’re more than that. You’re… special.” And Kyungsoo means what he says, even if he’d taken a little too long trying to justify it in his own mind. He supposes it isn’t their teacher’s definition of special, because Chanyeol still isn’t a girl. Rather, Chanyeol is most definitely Chanyeol’s definition of special, because Chanyeol is someone Kyungsoo doesn’t want to be without.  
  
“Kyungsoo, listen—”  
  
“No, _you_ listen! I-I don’t want to give you up, okay? You’re important to me. You wanna know why I was so upset today? It’s because everyone was saying you were going to be adopted by some guy who suddenly decided he wanted you. And I know, okay? I know. We won’t live in this orphanage together forever. We probably won’t even be here next year. But a guy like me can dream, right? It might not be forever, but it’s still more time. With you.”  
  
Chanyeol doesn’t respond immediately. Kyungsoo feels exposed, and he doesn’t dare meet Chanyeol in the eye. It’s one matter to reach self-understanding, but vocalizing feelings is another trial in itself. Chanyeol bears witness to Kyungsoo’s heart, and somehow that both relieves and terrifies Kyungsoo.  
  
When Chanyeol does speak (it feels like forever to Kyungsoo, but in truth only fifteen or so seconds pass), Chanyeol doesn’t remark on Kyungsoo’s feelings.  
  
“So you heard about that, huh?”  
  
“What, the rumor?” Kyungsoo nods slightly. “Yeah, I did. Is… is it true?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
A pause, in which Kyungsoo’s heart plummets,  
prematurely.  
  
“But I’m not going through with it.”  
  
Kyungsoo’s face twists with confusion, a sentiment for which he opens his mouth in an attempt to express, though the words never leave him.  
  
“I spent all today with a social worker discussing the case. To be honest, I still don’t understand all the legal stuff behind it. Long story short, I was told I was old enough and didn’t have to go through with it if I didn’t want to, so I didn’t. I’m starting university soon anyway, so it’ll be too much moving.”  
  
“I see….” Kyungsoo tries his best to not sound too relieved. “So you’re… not leaving?”  
  
Chanyeol shakes his head—all the confirmation Kyungsoo needs—and Kyungsoo lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.  
  
“Listen,” Chanyeol says quietly, “there’s something I want to tell you. Do you remember when I first moved in with you?”—Kyungsoo does remember—“Well, before I met you, I was told a lot of things. Mr. Cho told me you didn’t know about your parents or why you were here. He told me how you treated everyone as your brother—I guess he knew it was your way of coping to an unfamiliar environment?  
  
“But he also told me that you were a bit quiet, that you were always sad without knowing why, as if trying to reach out to someone who wasn’t there. So before I met you, Mr. Cho asked me to be your friend. But don’t get me wrong!—I think we would’ve been friends even if no one had asked me to.”  
  
“Good,” mutters Kyungsoo with a nervous laugh. “For a second I thought you were forfeiting our friendship, or something.”  
  
“Never,” says Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo isn’t sure just how much weight there is to that one word. “What I’m trying to say is… I was asked to be your friend, and I hoped I succeeded. But in many ways, you were the one being a friend for me. I remember my very first visit with Mr. Cho, how he told me that I was coping much more easily than other kids my age had. And truthfully, I really was hurting, it was all in the back of my mind. But it was easier because you were around.  
  
“I fooled around a lot. I guess it was my way of coping. And while you didn’t discourage me to the point of forbidding me to do as I pleased, you still watched over me. You took care of me, I guess?—and sometimes you even let me take care of you. You let me be myself, without judging me or telling me to change who I was. Not to mention, we’ve been through so much, I think I know you better than I know myself.  
  
“I know, I’m rambling. I’m sorry. I’m not good with organizing my thoughts. But well… Mr. Cho told me you were trying to reach out to someone, so I offered a hand. But in the end, you’re the one who saved me from what I could’ve become, had I let myself mope around in despair all this time. You… complete me, I guess? You make me better.  
  
“So you’re special to me too, Kyungsoo.” Chanyeol pauses for a moment, while Kyungsoo is too absorbed in these last words to comment. “I guess I could’ve made this a whole lot shorter if I’d just said that, huh?”  
  
“I-It’s fine.” Kyungsoo nods nervously. He’s suddenly overwhelmed with a jittery feeling which swells from the pits of his stomach, and he’s caught by surprise because no teacher had ever told him what emotion results from two people calling each other special. But Kyungsoo trusts his instincts more than his teachers’ teachings, especially since Chanyeol still isn’t a girl (nor does Kyungsoo want him to be a girl), so Kyungsoo goes again by instinct and concludes this feeling must be a good thing.  
  
  
  
  
  
“But what do two special people do with each other?” is a question that Kyungsoo doesn’t ask until several days later, after their intimate moment has already come and gone.  
  
“Everything we’ve been doing,” is the answer Chanyeol gives him. After all, Chanyeol reasons, labels do not define memories, but rather it is memories that define labels.  
  
  
  
  
  
Christmas comes around much sooner than Kyungsoo expects, though he doesn’t quite look forward to the holidays this time around.  
  
“Don’t look so down,” says Chanyeol with his trademark grin. “Even if today is our last Christmas here, it doesn’t mean we’ll never spend Christmas together again.” But while it’s nearly impossible for Kyungsoo to not smile when around a cheerful Chanyeol, his mood doesn’t pick up in the way Chanyeol would’ve liked.  
  
This year they start with the exchanging of gifts: Kyungsoo gets Chanyeol a classy watch (“…because I won’t be around anymore to wake you up for all your classes.”), while Chanyeol gets Kyungsoo another pair of socks (“…because I noticed the ones I got you last time have holes in them, so here’re some new ones!”). Kyungsoo isn’t particularly thrilled with his gift because he feels like socks aren’t meaningful enough of a gift for one last Christmas spent with a special person (even though he understands socks do have a symbolic significance in their relationship), though he doesn’t mention his reasons when he makes his complaints.  
  
“Oh, quit your whining and draw me a symbol already,” says Chanyeol dismissively, and Kyungsoo does as he’s told. He draws a heart and explains the symbolism to Chanyeol, though Chanyeol already knows most of what Kyungsoo has to say.  
  
“You’re special to me,” Kyungsoo says timidly. “You’re special, and I like you.”  
  
Chanyeol beams and an “I know” is all that escapes his lips before he takes his turn. Kyungsoo isn’t sure how he feels when Chanyeol tiptoes and carves his symbol at the very top of the doorpost, and he isn’t sure if it’s a mockery of just how much he’s grown over the years or if he’s trying to throw off the future inhabitants of their room.  
  
“What… what is it?” asks Kyungsoo, because from his height he can’t clearly make out what the drawing is supposed to represent.  
  
“It’s called mistletoe,” Chanyeol replies, and he goes on to explain (rather poorly) the English tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. Actually, his entire explanation is “My second Christmas gift to you is a tradition. In England, people kiss under the mistletoe,” and that’s how Kyungsoo finds himself backed up against the wall and with Chanyeol’s lips pressed gently against his. It’s a quick and innocent kiss, even though innocence was lost some time ago, and it leaves Kyungsoo breathless and out of words.  
  
“I love you too.” says Chanyeol, even though Kyungsoo hadn’t quite used that wording. Kyungsoo can’t say he approves of Chanyeol’s cheekiness, but Kyungsoo does suppose a first kiss and a new tradition are much more meaningful gifts than a mere pair of socks. So, in Kyungsoo’s book, Chanyeol is forgiven, and all is well.  
  
(“But socks?” whines Kyungsoo as he poses with eleven years’ worth of symbols carved into wood. “Really?”  
  
“Don’t complain. I gave you a tradition, too!”  
  
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes with feigned annoyance. “Oh, so what, we’re going to kiss under the mistletoe for the next eleven years?”  
  
“Who knows?” asks Chanyeol, an innocent smile tugging at his lips as he readies the camera. “Maybe even forever?”  
  
“Forever? …there’s no such thing as forever.”  
  
Chanyeol only smiles.  
  
“Who knows? There might be.”)  
  
---  
  
**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for your time in reading this! Feedback is always welcome. My contact details are on my profile, if you would like to reach out to me to talk more.


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